


Star Trek: Into the Skyrim

by Halfblood_Fiend



Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Tomfoolery on the Holodeck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 17:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21305822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend
Summary: Todd Howard's Vision is finally complete when Skyrim is brought to the Holodeck and starts taking up everyone's free time. Please enjoy a silly moment between Vorik and (the finally named) Modern!OC Giana Moreno as they log some hours in Elder Scrolls: Skyrim.
Series: Fictober 2019 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536041
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Fictober19





	Star Trek: Into the Skyrim

**Author's Note:**

> It took a very long time for me to decide how I wanted to post this collection of things as it has mostly Star Trek stories and a few original things... I figure if I really want to pick up any of these tidbits and write them in earnest, I know where they are. So that's why these are being posted in November. It took me literally a whole month to decide how I wanted to handle posting them to AO3. Lol. Sorry?
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy reading some of these extremely self-indulgent things as much as I enjoyed writing them. :)
> 
> As far as an actual author's note for this story: The name "Gilmorrack" is the name of Giana's sword. Pretty sure you can get that from context clues but, just in case. :3
> 
> Day 1 : "It will be fun, trust me."

“Hey, stop fiddling with that,” I said, swatting Vorik’s hand away from the long hanging strap of his baldric. I yanked it snug over his protests and tied the extra length of leather in a loose knot in the front, then yanked that too, for good measure.

It was strange being in the holodeck without a program running, but it was stranger waltzing around the ship in full metal plate. Though we spared everyone else the clanking, in here every sound of the two of us getting ready seemed _loud_. Plus, the blank reflective walls and the crosshatching metal struts were eerie, like the room was _naked. _Naked and...rather underwhelming. For being the only room capable of creating pretty much any fantasy in the known universe, the actual room itself was…very plain, and shockingly small. It was hard to reconcile the fact that I had covered hundreds of miles in here, and yet the actual working space was fifty feet across at best.

“I am off balance,” the Vulcan complained. His voice echoed off the walls and made his words sound harsh.

“You’ll get used to it. It’s _supposed_ to hang like that. And anyway, if you wear it the way you were trying to, it’d get in the way of your arrows. This was all made to be _functional,_ after all, so wear it _functionally_.”

“It doesn’t _feel_ functional,” he muttered as he slung a full quiver over his other shoulder. “This boiled leather would hardly stop a knife, let alone a sword if we had the safeties disengaged. You’d find more useful armor on Vulcan.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I hefted my steel helmet in my hand, thought better of putting it on, and decided to clip it to my belt beneath my sabre-fur cloak. “Don’t forget something warm,” I shot over my shoulder. “Pretty sure my last save point was somewhere outside of Winterhold.”

“Ah. You _are_ trying to kill me, then. Computer, replicate Giana’s fur cloak. Size specifications 50.184 centimeters in the shoulder and 162.561 centimeters in length.” A moment later, the air in front of Vorik shimmered and a duplicate of the furs I was wearing over my own armor materialized in his hands. He swung the heavy thing over his shoulder, clasped the brooch in the front and tugged the fine ermine fur lining into place around his neck.

“You’re complaining an awful lot for someone who _asked_ to tag along for _my _holodeck time,” I pointed out to him as I watched.

His only response was to throw me a cocked eyebrow as if to say: _I wouldn’t have had to if you had only paid attention to me._

For several weeks I had been requesting the holodeck in any block of time I had free. It almost seemed like it was just time for one of those Skyrim benders one gets every now and again. And if the ship’s record of gameplay throughout each holodeck was any indication, I was by no means the only one suffering. The insanely retro game that Harry and Tom helped me design and code with holotechnology was the number one most played program on Voyager these days. Even outstripping Tom’s skeevy French bar or whatever it was he was so proud of. It made me sort of feel like I almost belonged on the ship, and that being That-Weird-Sad-Girl-From-The-Twentieth-Century actually paid off somehow. That Skyrim got so popular only days after I decided to release it to the whole crew really made me feel like I was contributing something worthwhile. _Finally._ Like if it hadn’t been for me, these future people would have never known the joys of being lost in the Skyrim.

And that, as any 20th Century Earth gamer would know, was a travesty.

But with all the joys of Skyrim came sacrifices—like being a bad friend and hardly seeing Vorik outside of shifts in Engineering because I straight up had an obsession now. He had seemed mildly understanding at first, but as it turned into weeks of not playing chess or sharing meals in front of tucked away viewports in the rec room, Vorik took matters into his own hands. Sort of. He was nearly infuriating with his insistent questions about what I was up to all morning and with the way he trailed me to the holodeck and then loudly announced (_unprompted_, I might add) that he was cleared of further duty for the rest of the day, not so subtly hinting for an invite. And I guess I was sort of touched by that, even if he would never admit that all the fuss was really just because he missed me.

“Ready, Freddie?” I asked as he pulled the black fur-lined hood low over his forehead. All I could really see of his face anymore was his eyes and nose.

He sighed. “I suppose.”

Resting my left hand on Gilmorrack’s pommel, I nudged Vorik with my elbow and laughed. “Come _on_. It will be fun, trust me! I’ll even be nice and adjust the in-game temperature if you want.”

“That will not be necessary. I am accustomed to suffering the “comfortable” ambient air on a human-dominated vessel. Experiencing the freezing temperature required to generate snow would merely be—I believe ‘the icing on the cake’ would be an appropriate Earth expression.”

Biting back a smile, I shook my head at him and made a mental note to “fast travel” somewhere a little warmer at the first chance we got.

I tilted my chin up and spoke to the room at large: “Computer? Run program: _Todd Howard’s Vision_; Moreno, savepoint Beta, please,” then to Vorik, “Watch your bitchin’, friendo. We’re going to a place where I can shoot you full of sparks with my fingers.”

His expression did not change as he looked me straight in the eye and deadpanned, “If I caught fire, then perhaps it would finally be warm.”

I couldn’t help laughing outright this time.

An acknowledging beep sounded, and then the room around us shifted. Blank, reflective walls shimmered just as the air had before materializing Vorik’s cloak as holographic images of a near earthen landscape blurred into being.

Tall evergreen trees rose at our sides and meandered through the hills and into the mountains towering skywards in the distance. Brush was sparse in the northern reaches of Skyrim and what there was appeared mangled, either long dead or long dormant. Darkness stretched across the sky, broken by the jagged Borealis snaking across the heavens and a spattering of only the brightest stars. Green and blue light reflected over the ground, magnified in the generous dusting of soft, glittering snow that blanketed everything as far as the eye could see.

The air became crisp as the internal sensors adjusted to the programming, and even though it was technically the same (as Vorik had already reminded me many times before), on the holodeck, the air suddenly lacked the distinct stale taste of recycling and sterilization. In here, frigid wind stung my cheeks with harsh kisses, my breath came out in hot puffs. Here, I could almost fool myself into forgetting I was trapped on a starship at all.

And that was the _real_ reason I spent so much time on the holodeck.

I moved my feet, testing the genuine sound of the snow crunching beneath my boots. _It_ _felt real,_ I grinned to myself. I didn’t think I would ever get over this feeling, this wonder. I would never _not_ be mystified by it all.

“So, Dragonkin, where to this time?” Vorik asked in a strained, muffled voice, clearly not marveling at our surroundings the way I was.

Giggling, I answered, “It’s Dragon_born._ Dragon_kin_ means _something else_, my dear Vulcan companion. And, no, please don’t ask me what. I won’t tell you.”

The ground beneath our boots started shaking. Across the tundra, a violent and deep earsplitting shriek reverberated over the mountains. It drew steadily closer, and the next moment, the roar was accompanied by great _whoosh_es of wind.

_Wingbeats_, I knew immediately.

Another roar shook precarious snowfalls off limp trees and this time the sound was accompanied by the sharp pang of my own excitement. My hand flew to Gilmorrack.

I pointed in the direction of the dragon’s roar. _“That way!”_

“Oh. Good. Towards the dragon. If we return, we should thoroughly discuss your definition of the word ‘fun’.”

**Author's Note:**

> The cool thing about holodecks is that I don't have to choose what kind of fic to write. :3 Been watching Voyager AND playing Skyrim? ¿Porque no las dos?


End file.
